Fallout: Vengeance from the Grave
by DeathBladeVI
Summary: The Courier awakes in Goodsprings. Wanting to know why he was almost killed, he tracks down his would be murderer, only to become trapped in a three-way power struggle. He finds friendship in unexpected places, love from an enemy, and the opportunity to change the face of the wasteland forever.
1. Prologue

_War. War never changes._

_When atomic fire consumed the earth, those who survived did so in great, underground vaults. When they opened, their inhabitants set out across ruins of the old world to build new societies, establish new villages, form new tribes._

_As decades passed, what had been the American southwest united beneath the flag of the New California Republic, dedicated to old-world values of democracy and the rule of law. As the Republic grew, so did its needs. Scouts spread east, seeking territory and wealth, in the dry and merciless expanse of the Mojave Desert. They returned with tales of a city untouched by the warheads that had scorched the rest of the world, and a great wall spanning the Colorado River._

_The NCR mobilized its army and set it east to occupy the Hoover Dam, and restore it to working condition. But across the Colorado, another society had arisen under a different flag. A vast army of slaves, forged in the conquest of 86 tribes: Caesar's Legion._

_Four years have passed since the Republic held the Dam - just barely - against the Legion's onslaught. The Legion did not retreat. Across the river, they gathered strength. Campfires burned, training drums beat. The Bull grows stronger with each passing day, waiting for the call to strike once more._

_The Republic grows tired of war, and with calls back home to withdraw from the land that had cost them thousands of men and millions of caps, not to mention the shattering of the confidence of the people, the NCR finds it difficult to remain in the region._

_Through it all, the New Vegas Strip has stayed open for business under the control of its mysterious overseer, Mr. House, and his army of rehabilitated Tribals and police robots. The lights from Vegas call as a siren to many..._

_A messenger that stays true to the ideals of the Old War, fighting beneath the flag of the Old United States. Holding out in the stormy and hellish land that is the Divide, he waits for his opportunity to release his vengeance on the man that destroyed his home and his future._

_Three tribes continue to fight for an unspoiled paradise. A man tries to protect the innocence of a tribe, while another tries to find solace for his past sins, in God and his own people. The Legion ever crawls near._

_A courier hired by the Mojave Express to deliver a package that would change the wasteland...but that delivery might be delayed, because war..._

_War never changes._

The light from the moon shined upon the desolate remains of what was the I-15. Gutted holes along the way, with burnt out cars and trucks standing homage to what was the world was before the Great War that had consumed the world. Dry desert air swept through the land, humming it's soft song of a time long passed.

Coyotes howled as they went on their nocturnal hunt, the blackness of the night shielding them from the wandering eye. Deathclaws prowled as well, looking for their own prey, whether it was human or beast, no creature would stave off the wicked claws.

On the way to the town of Goodsprings, a little town in the middle of nowhere, a man was walking quickly. The man had on a Vault-Tec issued jumpsuit, but was heavily modified. Hardened leather plates covered the shoulder and knees, while a strap heading from the shoulder plate to the waist was secured. A black glove covered the left hand, while several plates of leather were strapped to the arms, acting like bracers. Though the jumpsuit itself was flimsy, the leather plates allowed a person to have a fighting chance. Black combat boots he wore.

A 10mm pistol hung from the side of the man, in a holster that was made of black leather. It was weathered, having seen combat from Shady Sands to New Vegas itself. The steel was no longer a shiny steel color; it had faded into a steel grey color. An inscription on the butt of the pistol read Hope, Purity and Innocence.

A long barreled 12 gauge shotgun was strapped to his back. It was pump action, looking worn and yet was working perfectly. The with the metal of the barrel, receiver, and shell ejection port seem to appear to be more well-maintained, and that the stock and grip pump are synthetic with a camouflage weapon was scarred, having seen combat from across the wastelands, having once been in contact with the legendary Chosen One apparently, and was named properly Dinnerbell.

A scabbard was also on his back, being made of worn leather and colored red and black. A long and dangerous looking sword was in the scabbard, still as sharp and dangerous as when it was forged by the finest swordsmith of Japan over a thousand years ago. The sword was finely tuned and sharped, and was curved, slender and a single edged blade, with a long grip that could accommodate two hands.

"I've got spurs that jingle jangle jingle," the man hummed. Though a lot of people were scared by the night, he wasn't. Night was when a lot of the predators went to hunt in the desert, and that removed a lot of the danger. At daytime, raiders were usually more active, along with the Legion. He was happy but was on his guard. Striding in the desert night, he saw the lights of the Prospector Saloon in the distance bading him towards the place like a moth to a flame. His mouth watered for the steaks that Trudy would be making.

"Well hello there stranger," a warm and seductive voice said. It was out in the middle of the highway, a girl in short shorts and a leather jacket that barely covered her cleavage, the man in the jumpsuit gulped. He was only twenty four, and yet was battle hardened. Women were his weakness because he didn't know how to handle them.

"Why, hi there miss. I was just traveling up the road towards Goodsprings. What can I do to help you?" he asked. But his hand was already itching towards his pistol. He was known to these tricks on the road, raiders using young women to distract young men and to ambush them when they were about to get "lucky".

"Well you can help by giving me that chip in your bag," pointing to the black courier's bag that the man had with him. The man cursed inwardly for he knew that people would be after him.

"No can do miss, I can't do that," he said, gulping. The woman cracked a devious smile, before sauntering towards him, her hips swaying seductively.

"How come big boy?" she asked, cooing the last part. The man's hand was on his pistol, ready to whip it out just in case.

"Because miss, this isn't for you. It's for someone else," he said with some force behind the words. The girl looked at him with puppy eyes, her dark pools gesturing towards the bag. The man refused though.

"Well, that's too bad. We could have had some fun times. Boys!" and soon, thirteen men in the same get up as the woman, besides the short shorts, dressed in black pants instead, with black masks and helmets with horns. The black jackets on the back had a skull with eyes and a red helmet, along with what the man thought was an awesome mustache, were the words Great Khans enblazed.

"Your outgunned. Give us the chip, and everyone goes home safely. No one has to be killed," one of them said. The man gave a thought.

_If I did that, I would die a painful death. The Mojave Express hires mercs to go out after couriers who run off with their merchandise. I will die before I even flee the area._

"Sorry man, but I can't do that," the man said defiantly. The Great Khan next to the man who had first spoken before raising his hand. In his hand was a steel grey man in the jumpsuit raised his own pistol, leveling it at the Great Khan who was aiming it at him. In response to that, the thirteen Great Khans raised their guns, an assortment of long lever action rifles, revolvers, machine pistols and others, towards his man carrying the package looked with defiance.

"Listen, just give me the chip. It doesn't have to get ugly. Give me the chip, and both of us get to walk back home without someone dying. We got families to feed. Just give us the chip," the Great Khan pleaded. The man with the chip refused to do so with a shake of his head. Though he believed the Great Khan, now was not the time for high morals, nor for time to try and help others. He had a job to do, and he was being paid to do it. The Great Khan sighed. He motioned to the Great Khans and they raised their guns higher, towards the man's head.

"Get em boys!" and a volley of fire echoed through the wasteland. The man flinched as the bullets were fired. Smoke erupted from the barrels of the guns with the terrible sound of flashing thunder. But the man wasn't hit. The gunfire had hit something that was made of tough hide and that made bullets bounce of it like Smart Cars of a tank.

"Grrr.." came the sound from the creature, and the man looked up. It was a wicked creature, tough hardened leathery skin gleaming with death. Wicked claws that were sharper than steel glinted with malicious intent. Black eyes that darted from the Great Khans to the man. Two devil like horns that spawned out of the creature's deadly head.

It was a Deathclaw. With a mighty roar, the Deathclaw stomped forward, it's maw facing the Khans. It was like a guardian angel that had been called to protect the man delivering the package that the Great Khans wanted. Fate was smiling on the man.

The Deathclaw leapt forward, it's deadly claws slicing through the dry desert air. A Great Khan raised his lever action rifle, getting off a shot that rang through the air, but it was no more painful to the Deathclaw than when a fly bumped into a human. The Deathclaw then turned his attention towards the Great Khan who had shot him, and bounded after him. The screams that followed were soon silenced as the claws sliced through his body like acid, tendons and bones just being severed so cleanly, it was like slicing through water. The Great Khan's body flew and impacted onto a rock, reducing his head into a bloody mess.

"Shoot that creature of the devil. Come on guys, we need to gun this abomination down!" screamed a Great Khan, before being dismembered by the Deathclaw. His bloody corpse was then tossed over the Deathclaw's shoulder like a ragdoll, fascinating the man with the chip before he came to his senses.

"Got to get out of here.." he muttered before bolting down the road. The Deathclaw had just finished off another Great Khan before letting go of the man's torn up body. He then sniffed the air.

"Grrrr..." came the rumble from the Deathclaw's throat, and when that happened, the Deathclaw faced where the man was fleeing. The man looked back to see the Deathclaw cock his head like it was wondering where he was going. Then with a single bound, it started to half the distance between the man and himself.

The man cursed before rolling to the side, wildly grabbing his shotgun from his back and turning around. Pumping a new shell into the chamber, he fired, the 12 gauge buckshot slamming into the Deathclaw. The creature jumped back as the pellets of the buckshot pierced it's skin, making it issue a shrill cry of pain. The man then pumped another shell, ejecting the spent one from the chamber. Firing again, he aimed high and the buckshot tore through the air with the force of a train, slamming into the Deathclaw's open maw. The Deathclaw slammed into the ground by the force of the buckshot, growling and howling and itching at it's face to try and sooth the trickle of black blood coming from the wound.

The man then leapt to his feet, pumping another shell right into the Deathclaw, bouncing off the tough hide of the chest, and the Deathclaw slowly clawed it's way back to it's feet, before unleashing another unholy shrill.

The Deathclaw then looked at the man with hatred, fury that it's prey refused to go down quickly. As it began to leap forward, another shrill cry came from the wilderness, and the Deathclaw stopped, looking to the sound with fondness, before giving a warning growl. Then it bounded towards the open desert, the wind starting to pick up.

As the man drew a long breath, someone in a checkered coat smashed a blunt weapon against the back of his head, making him slip to his knees, and then fall into the trance of forced sleep.

A digging sound was heard, soft dirt being piled on top of each other. He tried to pull his hands, but they were intertwined together with rough rope, strong enough to keep him in place. His feet were also wrapped in rope, making him hopelessly helpless.A low light made his head swim, and he wondered where in God the Almighty he was. His head pounded with something fierce, and then he heard the words.

"Time to cash out," a smooth and suave voice said. The voice was also slick and the man looked to see another man, this one in a checkered suit. His slick and greasy hair was combed back, and his dark eyes swelled with mischief. Puffs of smoke were coming out of the suave man's mouth, taking another hit from the cigarette.

"You got whatchu you wanted, now pay up," and the man looked to see the Great Khan who had tried to reason with him. The girl that had tried to seduce him was leaning on a shovel, smiling warmly at the man.

"Ya crying in the rain paley," the other man retorted, looking quite pleased with himself.

"Guess who's waking up over here?" another Great Khan jeered. The man looked with hatred at him, before facing the suave man.

"Would you get it over with?" asked the Great Khan, the one who had tried to reason with him. His voice was wracked with guilt and fear.

"Maybe Khans kill their enemies without looking them in the eye, but I ain't a fink, dig?" he said to the Great Khan, which shut him up. The suave man in the checkered coat then removed the item the man had tried to deliver. The platinum chip flashed in the low light, and the suave man smirked. He then flashed the chip towards the man.

"You made your last delivery kid," and put the chip back into his coat." Sorry you got twisted up in this scene."

Soon, he pulled out another thing. A pistol that was encased in golden plating. The man saw this as insult. The biblical Woman of the Apocalypse shone at him from the grip, pearl and floral details, with a polished nickel finish.

"From where you're kneeling, it looks like an eighteen carat run of bad luck," the checkered coat man said with ease.

"But truth is," the pistol was then aimed towards his head." Game was rigged from the start."

The trigger was pulled and the last thing the man saw was a flash of light as the bullet sped out of the chamber and into his head.

**Hello! This is my own version of Fallout New Vegas with my own Courier. This will span from the regular game to Lonesome Road and to Honest Hearts. I might include Dead Money and Old World Blues, but I haven't decided yet. Please enjoy this chapter and I will pump out the next chapter as soon as I can. I changed some things and I'm going to make this my own novelization. Loosely follows the game plot. I'm unable to concentrate on one story so please do not expect regular updates. **


	2. Golden Field and White Crosses

A golden bull on a red field. Red symbolizing the blood the Legion had spilled for its Caesar. The thousands that had died for the glory of seeing Mars. And yet the Frumentarii was still not satisfied. Vulpes wanted her to make sure the Powder Gangers pay for what they did to the Legion. Killing Caesar's legionnaires was a crime punishable by death. And the Frumentarii intended for the prisoners to pay for every legionnaire that had been killed by the Powder Gangers.

Sometimes Juno wondered why it had taken so long for Caesar to send her and three of her most trusted men to the prison. Now she saw why. The prison was well fortified, with armed Gangers that stood vigilant at night and day. Guards shifted every day at dawn and sunrise, with more Powder Gangers in the yard and patrolling the fences. Armed with varmint rifles and cowboy repeaters, they were dangerous for the lightly armored and lightly armed legionnaires. With most of their strength concentrated on terrorizing the NCR on the river, it was going to prove difficult to take over the prison and put the populace to the sword.

The spotlights of the prison sometimes passed to the hills where Juno and her men were staying, but they never found them. Hidden in a cave, any Powder Ganger stupid or brave enough to enter the cave were gunned down or were executed. The night was dark as Juno put away her binoculars and headed up the hill to where her men were camped for the night. Juno trusted her men not to take advantage; plus they already had learned. When Juno first became a Frumentarii and started to lead missions some men had tried to rape her; those men were now hanging on the road to the Cove. The daughter of the Son of Mars did not take it to lightly that she would be raped by the men that were pledged to her father.

A slight glow was seen as she ascended up the hill. Two men in Legion garb, red and black sports gear that had interwoven Kevlar fibers in the gaps, with the black striped skirts that descended down to their knees. Football pads reinforced with leather covered the arms and knees, while a football helmet with sunglasses covered their head. A black face mask covered their mouth and nose, allowing for a fearsome sight. Armed with machetes and hunting rifles, the Veterans were an imposing sight and guarded their princess and leader well. The Juno Guard were some of the fiercest and deadly fighters in the Legion; only surpassed by the Praetorians and maybe the legendary Centurions.

"Lady Juno, we have awaited your return," one of them said before bowing. The other stood as still as a statue, scanning for any threats.

"Have you found anything interesting of the prison my lady?" asked the other Veteran, after bowing. The Veterans were stuck to their custom, so the Princess and Frumentarii Agent allowed it.

"No Marcus. The prison is the same. Spotlights and guard towers, sharpshooters and other dangers. We will never destroy the Powder Gangers unless my father allows more legionnaires to past west, but he will never do that. Unless we can recruit some locals to help us, we will have to wait and see," Juno said. Her black hair was tied in a ponytail, while her light explorer armor was starting to become heavy. She had been awake for the last twenty hours, trying to find a weak spot in the prison. She couldn't find one.

"Have faith Lady Juno. We will find a way," the other said. Juno nodded before turning to Marcus.

"Have you seen Crassus?" she asked curtly and the legionnaire shook his head.

"He said he was going hunting three hours ago. He has not returned and dawn will soon approach. Do you want us to go looking for him?" Marcus asked.

"No. Nero, follow me. Marcus, stay and look after the camp. If anyone comes that is not me, Nero, or Crassus, kill them," Juno said sharply. Marcus nodded before returning to his post besides the camp. Juno and Nero departed from the camp. _Where are you Crassus?_

In truth she liked Crassus. He was one of the ones that had trained her when she had willed to do so when she was younger. He never went easy on her, beating her like he did the rest of the legionnaires that were in training. At first she had complained to her father, what seven year didn't, but he paid her no heed. As the training became harder and she progressed farther, he pushed her the hardest. He broke her and remolded her into the warrior princess she was. The heir to the throne of Caesar. The Empress of what was going to be the rebirth of the Roman Empire, as was willed by the Gods. He had stuck by her side through the entire time, always pushing her.

The road that they followed lead to the town of Primm and of Goodsprings. Primm was under control of the Powder Gangers and was being watched by the New California Republic, which of course, hadn't done anything about it. Dawn was two hours away, and even so, the night was becoming lighter and lighter with each passing minute. The lights of New Vegas shined brightly to the north, while the constant howling of wildlife made Juno slightly uncomfortable.

Juno let the soft desert air play through her hair as she and Nero continued to walk north. Geckos avoided the woman and her guard while other animals kept a wary distance. Juno had a natural talent for animals, and most of them treated her as a friend or just left her alone. Her scarlet eyes scanned the rising horizon as she saw a hill. A water tower was there and she saw the little crosses that dotted the hill. A graveyard. For the dead. How many have I killed? She was approaching and she then saw the town of Goodsprings. No guards, just people. Ordinary people trying to make a living. And once father spreads his banner over the land, they will be subjects of Caesar.

The town was divided into two parts, the ruins and the actual town. Several water pumps and wells were seen on the outskirts of town, and she walked by them. Several Bighorners were in a pen and the soft desert plants swayed with the slight wind. Farmers were seen but they had their heads down. As they passed by a bright lighted saloon, they ascended up the hill. A lantern was swaying on the water tower, and the two legionnaires were soon at the top, looking for Crassus. The hill offered a good vantage point to look over the surrounding area that was Goodsprings.

Juno saw the little white crosses of the graves and then her eyes watered. Blood. Fresh blood. Someone had been shot recently. She then saw a grave that still had fresh overturned dirt. A white cross and several cigarette butts were seen, the butts still smoking. Whoever was there had bugged out quickly.

"Halt! In the name of Caesar I order you to surrender!" yelled a raspy and fierce voice. Juno looked to see who had made the threat, her pistol already out of her holster before she saw who it was. Crassus the Ghoul legionnaire. One of Caesar's first followers since the very beginning.

"Crassus we have looking for you," Juno said bitterly. Crassus laughed, wheezing and raspy.

"Of course. Gone for four hours. But this poor soul in the grave just died. He never stood a chance," the ghoul rasped and the Frumentarii whipped her head at him.

"Poor soul? What do you mean?" she asked and the ghoul pointed to the grave she had seen.

"Man was shot point blank in the head. Left his gear and stash in the next grave. We can dig him out and give him a proper burning. He was defiant to the last," the ghoul said, and the woman legionnaire looked flabbergasted.

"What were you hunting?" she asked. The ghoul gave another raspy laugh.

"Chairmen. Benny to be exact. A messenger came from Nipton to inform you that as soon as the business with the Powder Gangers is done, to meet Vulpes in New Vegas. All will be explained there he said," the ghoul replied.

"Benny? What in Saturn is he doing here?" she asked curiously.

"Hunting this poor fellow here. The man was a courier. Almost took down a deathclaw. Shotgun blast to the head scared him off, plus his mate was calling for him."

As the two were about to continue their conversation, Nero shooed for them to be quiet. Juno looked at him with anger before she heard the sound too.

The sound of breathing. Slow, shallow breathing.

"What is that?" she asked quietly. Crassus pointed to the grave.

"It's coming from the grave. Quick, Nero, help me start to dig the poor man out," and the legionnaire obeyed without question. The ghoul and the human legionnaire quickly dug the man out, the soft dirt no match for the rough hands of Caesar's finest. Soon a human, armored in a vault suit, was in Crassus's arms.

"What should we do with him Juno?" Crassus asked softly. Juno couldn't decide. She could leave him to die, as she had done many times to people. or she could help him survive.

"Follow me. We bring him into town," and the two legionnaires nodded. They quickly followed behind their leader. Marching down the hill quickly, she approached the saloon. Though the Legion was all fearing and all conquering, and had a reputation for cruelty that was known from Shady Sands to Denver, she needed medical help for the poor stranger.

The lights of the saloon shone brightly in the face of Juno, who was still dressed in her legionnaire garb. She didn't care what happened to her,she just needed the man to be alright. She didn't know why, but she just needed him to be alright.

Opening the door with vigor, she almost tore it off its hinges, but she was in a hurry and would worry about doors later. The saloon was dimly light, and a lone woman dressed in a dress and jacket was wiping dirty glasses clean while a man in a cowboy hat and cowboy like dress was drinking a bottle of whiskey.

"How can I help you-" and the woman froze when she saw the three legionnaires. Nero with his fearsome mask, Juno in her red armor, and a ghoul dressed like a Centurion. She was most likely frozen in fear, Juno knew, because the red armor of the Legion was known to all.

"What can I do for you people," the bartender finally sputtered. Juno was not in the mood for women to be weak. This was why the men of the Legion looked down at her gender.

"I need a doctor, and I need one now. This man is dying," she said sharply and bluntly. Juno always was down to the point with people that weren't her friends or family.

"Doc Mitchell is up the road. His house is the one with the flag hoisted up," the woman said, though she had said it with an edge.

"Thank you," and with that the came a bag of legion gold. Two dozen of Caesar's image in the hands of the woman. She looked at Juno with disbelief before taking the coins. Juno then turned to head out when she heard-

"Legionnaire scum. Coming into this town," muttered the man with whiskey. Stopping, Juno turned around. Her face was white with fury.

"Say that again profligate," she ordered and the man looked with fear. The woman was built like a tiger, slender and sleek, with the temper of a bull.

"Nothing mam," the man quickly stuttered. Juno looked at him with contempt before turning away. It was going to have to wait.

Leaving the saloon through another door, she quickly went up the road to where the flag house was. A gas station was more up the road and the cracked words of 'Poseidon Energy' were barely visible in the low light. Passing through the fence, she looked at the house before knocking on the centuries old door. A few moments pass, and she, with her impatience, she slammed her fist on the door five more times. She heard muttering as footsteps echoed through the house. A man, with a handle-bar mustache came to open the door, dressed in a pair of sweats and a white t-shirt. He looked at her with tired eyes before asking what she needed.

"A man has been shot. In the head. We need you to treat him," and the doctor immediately snapped awake.

"Shot in the head?" he asked sternly. Juno nodded." Bring him inside the house. Turn a right and put him on the bed. Quickly but gently. We need to hurry up. He doesn't have a lot of time."

Rushing into the house, Juno and her legionnaires moved into the house, gently moving aside the doctor.

"Put him on this bed. There you go. Now, tell me, how long ago was the man shot?" he asked and Crassus answered him.

"About an hour ago," the ghoul rasped. The doctor nodded.

"Good, we still have enough time. Now, young lady and her stalwart companions, please leave the room. I need to operate on the man," he said gently. Juno looked at him with surprise.

"How come you are not afraid?" she asked. The doctor looked at her with amusement.

"I too, once served the Legion," and he pulled up his shirt sleeve. SPQR. The mark of the Praetorians. An eagle with the bar lines.

"Praetorian?" she asked quietly, and the doctor nodded. Legend told of a man that emerged from a vault with a wife and had worn a Pip-Boy. He was a relic of the old world, and yet made great strides in the new one. The one who guarded the Caesar with his life and a laser pistol. A broken man when his wife died.

"Yes. The very same. Caesar permitted to live outside the boundaries of the Legion. But let us not visit the past. The man will be saved," the Doctor said with conviction.

"Thank you Praetorian Gaius," she said sweetly.

The man that she had saved was going to be fine. When she left the Doctor's house, she wondered: Why had she saved the life a dissolute? The doubt still was with her when she left the town, heading back to the hills surrounding the prison. As she did so, the dawn was breaking, and a new day started in the Mojave. 


	3. Ain't That A Kick In the Head

A pounding headache smashed into his head. Bright flares of pain echoed through his mind as he shivered. A red flag. Golden bull. A bear. A chip made of flawless platinum. A casino that rose from the ground to commander a city of sin,vice, and death.

His mind was darkness. There was a tunnel. Dark and foreboding. But there was a light. But every time he tried to walk to the light, a searing pain in his head would make him take a step back.

Memories of a time that had past. Skin burning, mind reeling. The soft melodic singing of an angelic voice that echoed through the abandon halls of his mind. A man with greying hair and a never ending smile on the ground, dead. A fortress that commanded the view over a river of death. Men and women that died for a dream that came true just for him to be exiled by the one he loved. A fiery explosion that took his last remaining family. Leaving the lands of his home and wandering. A lone wanderer in the wastelands. Finding the city in the oasis. Becoming a messenger, sometimes of a message of death and warning, sometimes delivering packages. A woman with dark hair, scarlet eyes and red armor.

What was his name? His mind raced across the vast expanse of his endless vault that he called his checked every corner and nook and cranny. But they could not find two words that were his name.

There he was again. At the entrance of the tunnel. Bright light was coming from the end, beckoning him to go there. Sweet light, warmness that engulfed his entire body. He wanted to bask in it, glorify it. He looked up, and then everything came crashing down. A man in a checkered suit, aiming a pistol at his head.

"Well, how about that," an old weathered voice said. Flashes of sight entered the mind of the man, random outbursts of light and a ceiling fan making a rotation over and over, blowing fresh stale air into his nose. Inhaling, he coughed before looking at the origin of the voice.

The man that had the voice was old, with white hair that was balding in the center of his tanned white skin, a handlebar mustache that was slightly gray with wisps of white, and brown eyes that had seen too much death and destruction in this world.

"Wow, easy there," the old man said, as he tried to look over to his side. Immediately fresh waves of pain crashed like waves against his head. He clutched his head, and looked at the old man.

"You've been out cold for a couple days now," the old man said carefully, allowing the bedridden man to understand." Why don't you just relax for a second?"

"Get your bearings and we'll see what the damage is." Damage? What damage? On instinct, the man raised his right hand to his face, and on his forehead, felt a soft covering of a bandage over his right eye.

"How bout your name. Can you tell me your name?" the old man asked and the man scratched his head. What is my name? His mind was empty. As he was about to tell him his name, it suddenly came crashing into his mind.

_Zephyr. Zephyr, son of Zachary._

"My name is Zephyr. The son of Zachary," Zephyr said, still confused about the name. Was his name really Zephyr? He just decided to go with it until he learned more about his surroundings.

"Well, that's not the name I pick for ya, but if that's your name, then that's your name," the old man chuckled. "I'm Doc Mitchell. Welcome to Goodsprings."

Goodsprings? What town is this? Then it came to him. Goodsprings, a small town of about twenty or so inhabitants. Weak defenses, barely any guards, no dangerous gangs or wildlife except for the wild assortment of death awaiting for the foolish travelers trying to go north.

"Now, I hope you don't mind, but I had to go rooting around in your noggin for pieces of lead and what not," Doc then stopped to darkly chuckle. "I like to take pride in my needlework, but I just need you to look yourself over. How'd I do?"

The Doctor handed him a cracked mirror, and was dusty. Raising it, he saw what he looked like. Cracked dried skin from days without moisture. A bandage that wrapped around his head, covering his right eye with specks of blood. His skin was tanned and golden, though he was a man that was of fair skin. Must be from all the days out in the sun. His left eye was open, a golden iris looking back at him. He was dressed in nothing but a shirt and underwear. Boxers the color of night.

"Well, how you do look?" Doc Mitchell asked, before chuckling again.

"I look good Doc. A little pain here and there and the cracked and dried skin sure ain't a going to be the key to getting ladies. But all in all, I look good," Zephyr joked and Doc Mitchell joined him. It felt good, joking and laughing, despite not knowing anything about his past. His mind was a blank. All he knew that he was on a bed in a small town called Goodsprings.

"Hey Doc, how did I get in this bed? I don't remember anything but my name," Zephyr said and Doc looked at him with sorrowful eyes.

"You got shot in the noggin my friend. Two bullets that grazed your skull and almost killed you. Some passing people got ya and brought you here. People in red and golden armor. Under the banner of the bull," Doc Mitchell said and suddenly more memories came crashing into his skull.

A woman, more lovelier than the sun itself, more beautiful than the desert, and accompanied by men in red, had dug him out and handed him to the Doc. A man in a checkerboard suit that had shot him with a golden gun.

"Who was the woman? I remember it was a beautiful woman, but I don't remember her name," Zephyr said sadly He remembered her voice, as sweet as honey and maybe even sweeter, but he couldn't remember her name. You have to remember your name.

"She said her name was Juno. She dug you out of a ditch, but she didn't go into detail. You might want to check with the people in town or the saloon after ya recover," Doc Mitchell said carefully. His voice was defensive and careful like he was hiding something. Whatever he was hiding, it was his own damn business. The man had saved his life, so he was free from those kind of prying questions Zephyr wanted to ask.

"Do you think you can stand up son?" the Doc asked wearily, as if he had grown twenty years older since a few minutes passed.

"I think so Doc. Can you help me?" he asked and the Doc extended his hand. Zephyr extended his hands and grasped the arms of the Doc and he pulled up, gasping in pain as feeling surged back into his legs. Waves of pain flared back into his arms as well, straining from the use. But before he knew it, he was on the rough wood, his weathered feet clasping onto it. It felt strange, standing on his own feet, clad in nothing but a shirt and boxers. Doc Mitchell gently grasped his arm.

"C'mon son, let's head over to the Vit-o-matic Vigor Test to see how yer bearings are," and Zephyr saw a machine that was sitting near the doorway. As he was standing on his own two feet, the wood felt cold and fresh on his soles, and the pain was being replaced with pleasurement due to him standing. Feeling was flooding his legs, and his arms were becoming stronger. Whatever the Doc was, he was a god to Zephyr right now for his treatment of him.

"Hey Doc, can I walk over there on my power? I want to get some feeling in my legs and see what these old things can do," Zephyr said and Doc unclasped his hands with uneasy grace. Without the Doc's hands, his legs trembled due to him not being used to his own weight, but he managed to right himself. Standing by himself made him feel pride of his accomplishments. It seemed like hours had passed before he decided to take his first step. When he didn't fall, he took another, then another. Soon he was walking on his own two feet and swiftly made it to the Vigor Machine.

"Hey, take a squeeze. See how yer doing after being shot," Doc encouraged and Zephyr grasped the cool handle of the machine. Giving it a squeeze, he watched the machine light up and soon he saw the first category.

"Hmm, Strength, you got a six. Nothing special, but hey, you just got shot so standing on your two feet and managing to get a six is good. Squeeze it again," and so Zephyr did.

"You ain't that silver tongued, but a six. You some salesman huh?" Doc jested and Zephyr gave the machine another squeeze.

"Damn son, you some kind of walking ghost? You got the agility of a freaking deathclaw, maybe even quicker. And you look like you got some eye. Sniper hawk? Give it one more squeeze," and so Zephyr did.

"Damn once more. You're like a walking library. But look at that, you must have been standing under a ladder, while being followed by thirteen pitch black cats. But seeing that you were shot, it looks like you got some good luck! Though the Vigor Machine is sometimes wrong. Oh well, follow me. I got some more tests and try to find how ya family history is about," Doc chuckled again," Though it's not like I expect you to have a family history of being shot in the head."

His living room had a bare couch that was uncomfortable to sit in, a desolate fireplace and several other items that he did not like. Boxes of stuff stacked against the cracked dry walls that smelled slightly...well just wrong. But since this was the post-war world, one cannot expect people to invest in cleaning their walls.

"I'm going to say some words and you're going to tell me the first word that pops up in your head," Doc said and Zephyr nodded. Sounded easy enough to Zephyr.

"Dog," and soon the word "friend" came up in his mind. Did he have a dog before he was shot?

"Friend," he said and Doc Mitchell nodded.

"Bandit," Doc said next and Zephyr wracked his head for an answer.

"Kill," he said and Doc nodded again.

"Night," and Zephyr said automatically," Silencer." Hmmm, must have had a silenced weapon before he was shot.

"House."

"Renovate. I like my houses fixed up."

"Light."

"Torch."

"Mother."

"Regret," the word came to Zephyr so fast that he blurted it out as soon as Mother was said. His stomach tightened as he thought about it. Though he didn't know anything about his mother, it was still gut wrenching guilt he was experiencing.

"Ok, now I'm gonna have a few statements said. I want you to tell how much you agree, disagree, or if you have no opinion."

"Conflict just ain't my nature."

"Disagree."

"I ain't given to relying on other people."

"Agree."

"I'm always fixing to be the center of attention."

"Strong disagree."

"I'm slow to embrace new ideas."

"Strongly agree."

Suddenly the ground trembled followed by robust coughing. Doc Mitchell looked undisturbed, but Zephyr was not.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded and Doc Mitchell just shrugged.

"It was Easy Pete trying to teach some youngling how to throw dynamite. Probably didn't work out as well as he thought of. Well, sunny me boy, you're doing fine. I think it's time we get you back onto the scene and doing something. Follow me," and the Doc rose to walk to some other part of the house, closely followed by Zephyr. A swirl of pain hit then and now, but with him getting used to walking, it was less that expected. Following him into the hallway, he saw a few dusty caps, a leather hat, along with some burnt books in bookcases, a testimony to the havoc wrecked on the earth by the atomic bombs.

"I had somethings with me. Where are they?" Zephyr asked. It was a question that had been burning in him. To his alarm, the Doc's expression seem to darken.

"The men that attacked you left you little. Just a vault suit that was armored, a 9mm pistol, and this," he answered and stepped into a hallway. Coming back shortly, he presented something that was very dear to his heart.

It was his samurai sword, a sword that had been passed down the generations in his family. Called _Dragon's Teeth_ throughout the years, it was still as sharp as the day it was made. The worn black scabbard was still there, inscribed with a language that had long been lost to his family.

"They took everything else I guess. Here, I got something else for ya," he said somberly. He took something from one of the shelves and presented to it.

It was a Pip-Boy, one of the few relics of the past that was still used heavily today, besides weapons, food, and basic medical supplies that dotted the wastelands. Useful for navigation, keeping track of inventory, and letting you know if you had radiation and were near death, it was a pretty useful tool.

"Used to be my wife's before she died. Not useful anymore to me, so I hoped you can use it."

Zephyr felt a wave of emotions rush over him. He felt undying gratitude for the man that had saved his life.

"Thank you Doc," he said with a tear running down his cheek.

"Don't worry about it kid. Just be a good man and live long. Also prosper. What are ye gonna do when you get out there?" he asked.

"I'm going to go out there to do things," he then paused and looked down at the Pip-Boy in his hands," and I'm gonna hunt down the bastard who shot me."

And then he started towards the door and as he opened it, the blinding sun reached his eyes. He took his first step forward...

"SON! YOU FORGOT TO PUT YOUR SUIT BACK ON!"


	4. Back in the Saddle

The man took a long drag of his cigarette. He enjoyed the addictive chemicals that started to course through his body, a cigarette a day made the doctor stay away. The filter no longer worked due to the hundreds of years since it had been packaged by the tobacco companies before the Great War.

He looked over the highway, seeing the vast stretch of territory that was soon to be his. The caravans were to pay protection fees to him, so that he could pay Eddie to be in control of this stretch. Eddie was the overall leader of the Powder Gangers; he was the leader of the crew that was just outside of Goodsprings.

Goodsprings.

For the past week, they had been rebuffing his attempts to get a trader that had managed to escape them, a guy by the name of Ringo. He had shot two of his men dead and he wanted vengeance. He loosened up his Kevlar vest that covered his blue button up shirt. He was sweating from the heat, but the cigarette made it a little more bearable. He looked at his holster which housed his magnum, which was currently shining from the glare from the afternoon sun.

_Lucky._

He had found it when he and a few of his guys went to Primm to look for easy pickings, only to be driven off by another group of convicts from the same prison. They had managed to escape, but in their escape from the Bison Steve Hotel, he had managed to pick up a new .357 magnum. He looked at the cool metal while he looked at the little town of Goodsprings. He saw the stupid robot that looked like one of those fancy from before the war wheeling around, while Sunny, the little bitch with the varmint rifle and the local "ranger", was sitting on top of the roof of the saloon where she was enjoying a cool Nuka-Cola under the shade of an umbrella. But he saw something that caught his eye.

It was someone walking out of the house of the Doc that lived there, wearing a vault suit that was armored in different areas with tough hardened leather plates. A 9mm pistol rested on his hip, in the holster that was attached to his pistol belt. A large black leather scabbard hung from his back while an armored glove was holding a bottle of fresh water. He licked his lips at the sight of the water. He whistled to his boys; they looked at him with savage looks, some of the dressed with nothing but shorts and a bandolier on. Two of those boys stood up when he passed a glance at them.

"Go to the Springs. Get some water. If that Sunny bitch goes there for her daily gecko cleansing, I give you my blessing to cleanse her," he said with a savage grin.

* * *

Zephyr walked along the dusty road that intersected into Goodsprings. It was a cloudless sky; the burning sun was torching the desert. He looked at his newly acquired Pip-Boy before setting on his destination; the Prospector Saloon. He saw a man tilling his fields, wearing a cowboy vest shirt along with a wide brimmed hat. Passing him, he yelled a friendly hello, only to hear the man mutter," Too many people passing into town if you ask me."

The general store was a two story building with the sign, GOODSPRINGS GENERAL STORE, in bold letters on a rickety piece of wood that hung over the rotting wooden door. Passing by, Zephyr looked into his satchel that he had with him. In it were fifty-five caps, six clips of 9mm ammunition for his pistol that he had christened _Headshot, _two bottles of purified water,(asking the Doc for it when he realized that the land was shit), some gecko jerky that the Doc had kindly given him, and a few changes of underwear.

_Yep. This is going to be fun._

He was going to track down the bastard that had shot point blank for something that he thought was a tacky piece of shit. There had been a note in his satchel, detailing that he was to deliver a platinum chip to New Vegas for two hundred and fifty caps. After being shot in the head, Zephyr wanted to five times as many caps. After all, he had been shot in the head.

What troubled him the most was that all he knew was his first name. When he tried to conjure up something from his past, it was a muddy puzzle, like a pool of water that kept being rippled. He couldn't remember anything.

A tumbleweed jarred from his thoughts. The Prospector Saloon, where the Doc had told him to meet Sunny, the local ranger and a tough son of a bitch, if the Doc was to believed. He looked at the saloon, two desolate motorcycles, gutted with only the outer shell there, being in front of it, and a man playing guitar as he sung with a rough but nice voice.

_To the town of Agua Fria rode a stranger one fine day._

Zephyr continued to walk on by, going up the steps to the front of the Prospector Saloon, the bright lights from the sign mixing with the rays from the afternoon sun. He opened the door, letting a wave of alcohol, vomit, and crushed childhood dreams rush over him. He heard a growl and looked up, to see a massive German Shepard, or what he thought to be a German Shepard, growling at him, teeth bared. Spittle landed on the floor as the dog continued to growl, its rear starting to go up, as if it was going to pounce on the poor man that had just woken up from his funeral.

"Cheyenne stay," a voice came from the shifting darkness on the other side of the room. He squinted, only to see a short blonde woman, with darkened bronze skin, high and sharp cheekbones, and was wearing armor made of toughened gecko leather. A rifle was seen strapped to her back, as well as two pistols in holsters on her hip. She was a ranger.

"Hi, my name is Sunny, the local ranger. Cheyenne won't bite unless I tell her so. What can I do for you stranger?" she asked in a sort of bored tone.

"Doc Mitchell said that you could him get back in the saddle, you know, help me relearn how to survive in this wasteland, I guess," he said, relaying the words that the Doc had told him in order to get help.

"Alright stranger. Meet in the back. I got a nice shooting range. After that, we'll go clear the Springs watering hole. Then, I'll teach you how to mix different plants in order to make different kinds of potions, healing items, all the wonderful stuff. You in stranger?" she asked. Zephyr nodded and soon she was heading out into the wasteland. He followed close behind and soon he was basking in the warm afternoon sun once more.

"Alright stranger, take this varmint rifle," he turned to see that she had lead them to the back of the Saloon. A makeshift table held several bottles of empty Nuka-Cola and Sunset that wee arrayed in a makeshift shooting range.. She handed him a rifle, with three magazines. He locked on the rifle and suddenly bits of information came into his mind.

_M1 Carbine. Five-point-fifty-six round. Same used in the M16 and the AR-15. Able to drop a human target from three hundred yards. Not high stopping power but with the right aim, can drop anything. Headshots are the best way to use this rifle. Bolt action. Five round clip. can be modified. Ok condition._

"Alright, just take this and aim down the sights. Shouldn't be tha-"but she was cut off when he aimed the rifle down the sights. Inhaling, he let the cool desert air filter in to his lungs and let the adrenaline take over. Time seemed to slow as he exhaled and pulled the trigger. A mushroom cloud of smoke and exhaust sputtered from the rifle as the bullet sped out of the rifle, letting the rifled grooves make it spin like it was doing ballet, being propelled by hot compressed gasses.

The first target exploded in a shrapnel of glass that rained onto the table, stabbing the ground with deadly efficiency. He then pulled the bolt out, letting the hot brass eject and slammed right back in, a new bullet in the chamber. He aimed again and the same thing happened, this time a Nuka-Cola bottle that also exploded. Repeat. Soon, all the bottles had been shot and destroyed. He let the hot rifle cool before he ejected the magazine and slammed a new one right into it. He was good. _Real good. _He didn't know what happened. He had let his instincts and this was what happened.

"Wow stranger. Never saw anyone shoot like that before. Seems that you have this whole shooting thing down like that," she said with admiration in her tone.

"Thank you Sunny. Here's your rifle back," he said, trying to hand it back.

"No stranger, you keep it. You do a lot better with it than me. Alright, lets go head to the watering hole," she said with authority. Zephyr looked at the rifle before asking for a strap. Sunny parted with one, though not without complaint. Soon, the rifle was strapped to his back and he and the ranger were heading to the watering hole, or the "Springs" as the locals called it, to do some community service.

* * *

Juno was situated on top of the hill. The town of Goodsprings was arrayed right in front of her. She saw the graveyard where she had dug up the courier that had been shot. She was looking through a pair of ancient binoculars when she saw two people start to walk from the Saloon to the Watering holes that gave the town its name. One of the was in a vault suit, armored and raring to go, while the other was in leather, with a dog trailing behind her.

"My lady, a group of Powder Gangers has just arrived outside the town. Numbering at least ten. Two of them are heading to the Springs. Both are dressed in the armor of the old NCR guards at the prison. Should we take care of them?" asked Crassus in his old raspy voice.

"No. I want see what this man can do. I want to see why I saved him."

* * *

Zephyr obeyed Sunny when she told him to kneel down. A large bluff was what blocked the wind from betraying them to the three geckoes that were just up the small slope that lead to one of the watering holes that dotted the Springs.

"Alright, here's the plan. You go and kill them while me and Cheyenne have a bottle of water. Ok?" she asked and Zephyr, not paying attention due to the large German Shepard licking his face, said ok.

"And go do what you do best!" she yelled, encouraging the young man. He grumbled whatever, before taking a spot at the bottom of the small slope that indicated where the geckos where. As he lined up his sights on the first one, a gecko about as big as Cheyenne, with green skin and razor sharp teeth, he inhaled.

_Vault-Tec Assisted Targeting System online. Targeting...large mutated animal. Thirty-five percent chance of hitting head. Sixty-three percent chance of hitting right and left legs. Seventy-two percent chance of hitting arms. Ninety-two percent chance of hitting torso. Which would you like to hit?_

Zephyr let his instincts take over.

_Targeting torso. Three shots. _

Aiming, he swore that he felt time slow, the gecko starting to sprint towards him on two legs, bouncing up and down as spittle dropped from the gecko's mouth. A snarl was heard as the varmint rifle fired three times.

The first shot impacted the gecko's right lung, severing it at the connection with the trachea and causing it to collapse. The gecko started to feel the impact of the shot, but running on pure rage and adrenaline, the mutated creature continued to run towards at a blinding speed.

The seconds shot went wide, and instead of hitting the torso, it smashed straight into the gecko's upper arm. The bullet was sent straight through the tendon and bone that connected the arm to the torso, and severed it right then and there. Blood started to gush out in alarming amounts, dark red amounts that made the animal slid in its own blood and impact the dirt with a massive thud.

The third shot sliced straight through the right eye due to the gecko tripping on its own blood and ended its life.

The other geckos started to charge as well, but two well-placed headshots from Zephyr made them join their brother in the afterlife of death.

"Good job stranger. These gecko hides and meat will fetch a pretty cap at the general store. I got two more holes to clear out. You want to help?" she asked sweetly. Without hesitation, Zephyr answered,

"Yes."

* * *

In a chamber that was painted a bright blue, such as the blue that was the color of the Xeno-Tech that the aliens on board the Mothership that orbited the Earth before being taken over by the Capital Wasteland Brotherhood of Steel, six men were gathering on a long table. Each wore a robe that extended down to their feet, colored steel grey. Each man looked as old as when the day came to a standstill and bathed itself in atomic fire. Three other men were there, though they carried weapons, each of them armed with a laser rifle and wearing steel-grey combat armor and donning combat helmets.

"We need to find the solution to this problem. Without him, we cannot progress in our invasion of the Oregon plains. He can win the allegiance of these settlements so we have the necessary manpower to take over Washington and end the rogues that dared drive us out!" one of them said, wearing the emblem of a snarling golden lion on his collar of his robe.

"General, we have few soldiers as it is. We need him. I already have scout teams in our birds trying to locate the man. He should be found shortly," another said, this one wearing the emblem of a howling wolf.

"Who can we count as allies to destroy the filth that inhabit the plains? I know the Soldiers of the Cross will help us. These are true brothers. What of the New California Republic?" asked another, this one with the emblem of three red diamonds.

"The New California Republic is engaged with war against the backwards Caesar's Legion. They are stretched to thin and are already fighting a two-front war with the Legion and the Sixth Empire of Mexico. No, they cannot be counted on. How about the Oregon Chapter of the Brotherhood of Steel?" asked the General.

"No, they are engaged in a war with the raider clans. We need to find him! WE NEED TO FIND MY SON!" yelled another one. This one had an emblem of a dragon, a black dragon with fire coming out of its maw.

"Calm down Zachary, we are trying. Remember, he left on his own accord. Our traditions state that one can leave if they wish to. The clans also voted to send him into exile, due to the events of the Hopeville. We are trying my old friend, we are-" and then he was cut off as a man in black combat armor came running in, along with two other men, dressed in the same armor.

"What is it Sergeant?" asked Zachary.

"General, we found him. He is currently in Nevada, somewhere in the proximity of the city known as New Vegas. I can have my team there in one week, if we travel on the ground, or a few hours if we travel by air," the Sergeant said.

"Take my personal Vertibird. We need to get my son. His exile is over."

* * *

The second watering hole was easy. They had cleared it without difficulty, destroying the geckos with practiced ease. Once they reached the last one, they heard a scream.

_A female scream. _

A woman, dressed in a red country dress with a white apron and black gloves on, while donning a sunhat, was being chased by two humans dressed in blue. Kevlar vests that had fit over the blue prison suits they wore. Zephyr didn't need to know that these men were Powder Gangers.

"Gangers! We need to do something. Zephyr, we can't shoot them, they are to close to Emily! We have to find another way!" yelled Sunny.

_Aim for the back. Knock the wind out of one of them, engage and kill the first one and then kill the second. _And with that, Zephyr scooted back, while keeping an eye on the convicts running towards Emily, gauged the distance, started sprinting, and when he reached the bluff's edge, he leapt, his katana shining in the blazing sun.

* * *

Rodger was having fun. After killing the four geckos that were lazily lapping water and sunbathing, a young girl had wandered into the watering hole, seemingly to draw water. She had spotted them and was now running for her life. He enjoyed it when they ran, so he started to chase after the girl, his friend Charles behind him. His personal bat was there, _Striker_, and he licked the edge of it as he was within reach of the girl. Bringing it down, he slammed the bat straight into the girl's leg, enjoying the sound of bone breaking as the wooden bat vibrated. He loved the feel of when his bat struck a victim.

_Swing baby, swing. _

He then raised it one more time when heard an 'oof.' He turned to see his friend Charles on the ground, but didn't see the flashing steel as it came descending onto his neck.

* * *

Juno saw the man leap into the air, time slowing as adrenaline kicked in. The man landed on the large black man before cutting down his other one with a single overhead swing that decapitated the man easily. The sword was elegantly made, a black handle with the flawless steel. Before the other man could get up, the sword sang and the other man was dripping with blood as the sword cut off both his arms and then...a single thrust into the heart ended it all.

_So, a sword wielding and a gun wielder.A very powerful warrior. True Powder Gangers are weak idiots, he managed to kill two within seconds. I will be watching you stranger. I will be watching you._

And without a single word her and her guard left, the only indication that they were ever there was a banner that a black bull on a golden field.

**So longer chapter there. Explore some of Zephyr's origin, getting him back into the saddle, and Juno's interest in this man. Zachary is the father of Zephyr if you can't guess already, and there will be more next time. Thanks for reading!**

**DeathbladeVII**


	5. New Hardware, New Enemies, New Friends

What is happening people? It has been awhile. Thanks to CyberJordan for reviewing! One of the best authors on this site and a personal favorite of mine, if you haven't read his Fallout stories you should, they are awesome. Also thanks to The Altrox for reviewing as well, check out his stories as well. Now, on with the fic!

* * *

Zephyr looked at his blade. Instead of the clean steel, it was covered in blood. Warm and sticky blood that started to drip from his blade.

"Holy shit, I've seen some crazy things in this wild wild wasteland, but never something like that! Damn stranger, you one flashing steel sword cutting cowboy, aren't ya? Cut down two of those damn Powder Gangers like they were nothing!" Sunny exclaimed, her rifle holstered and Cheyenne barking.

"Thank you stranger!" Emily said, wincing as she stepped on her bad leg.

"We need to get you to a doctor. Sunny, can you get her to Doc Mitchell?" Zephyr asked politely. Sunny nodded and looped Emily's arm around her neck.

"Oh, before I forget, go see Trudy at the Saloon. She's the town mayor and my aunt. She wants to meet the man that got shot in the head and managed to survive. She would be crossed if I didn't!" Sunny let out a short laugh.

"Anyway, see you soon stranger!"

"Thank you stranger!"

Zephyr just looked in shock as the two walked away, still staring at his blade. He could not believe it. Just mere minutes after he had exited the Doctor's house, he had already killed somebody. Two people. True, both were murderers most likely, but he had taken a life.

Zephyr looked around, the still forms of both Powder Gangers on the ground. In the distance, along the highway, most likely going west, there was a man. He had a furious expression on his face, and he was flanked by three men in the same armor that he wore. He had a bullet proof vest over some blue clothing, and he was black. A dangerous looking revolver was at his side, looking shiny and very powerful.

"YOU MOTHA FUCKER! YOU KILLED MY BROTHERS! YOU KILLED MY BROTHERS! YOU AND THIS WHOLE TOWN IS GONNA PAY! YOU HEAR ME? PAY! AS SOON AS JOE COMES BACK, YOU AND THIS TOWN IS GONNA GET BURNT TO THE FUCKING GROUND! YOU GONNA BE NAILED TO A FUCKING POLE LIKE SOME CAESAR'S LEGION FUCK!" he said angrily, shaking his fist at Zephyr. He was angry, Zephyr could practically feel the fury and rage being directed at him, but he was angry as well, and he could not place his finger on it. Finally, he said the thing that he had wanted to say. What bugged him.

They pronounced Caesar with a soft c.

"It's pronounced Kaiser, not Caesar," he said back, saying Caesar with a hard k, instead of the soft c. Instantly, the Powder Ganger's expression went from one of fury and rage, to one of confusion.

"What the fuck did he just say?" he asked to another Powder Ganger. The man shrugged and said something that resembled, "how the fuck should I know" and the lead Powder Ganger turned back top Zephyr.

"Well, whatever the fuck you said, it is not fucking funny!" he threatened and in turn, Zephyr simply shrugged and started to walk back, the four Powder Gangers looking at him, still confused.

He looked at the morning sun, basking in its golden rays. The desert was a dangerous place, but he faced no dangers, as he walked towards the small town. He saw the Prospector's Saloon and he suddenly felt the craving for a drink. Or two.

He walked up the steps, wincing with the steps as they creaked, and opened the door, again, letting the wave of booze and cigarette smoke wash over him. In the dim and cool Saloon, he saw several Goodsprings settlers, people that were hardy and sufficient. But he saw a flash of silver and a fabric of blue. He went back into the bar area, looking into it, when he saw a woman, looking to be in her thirties, but she was strong and her hair straight.

And the man in front of her was a Powder Ganger, almost identical to the man that had yelled at him from afar.

"You don't give me Ringo and I'll come back with my boys. We will burn this fucking town to the ground. And I will make sure that sweet ass of Sunny's is mine, unless you deliver. Understand bitch?" he asked very impolitely. Trudy, Zephyr assumed he was, just leaned back, her arms going across.

"Listen Cobb, for the last time, he isn't here. He bugged out and went north. Now, threaten me again, and the only thing your boys will come for, is your body in a bag. Now if you ain't gonna get something to drink, get the fuck out of my bar!" she yelled. Cobb looked at her with fierceness, but he retreated, deeming it unwise, seeing that several of the settlers were reaching for their guns, and he left off with a warning.

"Remember, give me Ringo, or this town is gone."

And then he left.

"Well that did not end well," she muttered before turning to Zephyr.

"Well, you've made quite stir in town. I saw Emily with Sunny, heading to Doc's. What the hell happened?" she asked.

"Mam, we were clearing out the watering holes when two Powder Gangers attacked. She suffered a broken leg before I killed them," he said with complete cool.

"You killed two Powder Gangers? Well shit. Even if we did hand over Ringo, he would ask for you, and then ask for more shit. Fuck me in a dozen different places," she swore.

"Your name is Trudy, right?"

"Yes, it is. Sunny send you to me right?"

"Yes. I have a few questions about those Powder Gangers. Where are they from?" he asked politely.

"They are from a prison a few miles away. It was a NCR prison, but they managed to escape. Now, they control of this entire part of the I-15, from the outskirts of Goodsprings, to some of Hidden Valley, to Primm. It's dangerous on a good day here, and those convicts on the loose means that the Mojave Wasteland just became a more frightful place," she said.

"A prison? Well that explains the armor. Also, what is this Hidden Valley?" he asked, curious and because he wanted to get all the information he could about the surrounding area.

"Hidden Valley is an area between the prison and Black Mountain. Its near the prison and there are rumors that the Brotherhood of Steel is in control of the area, but I think it is a load of shit since I haven't seen no power armor around these parts," she said with contempt.

"What are the Brotherhood of Steel?" he asked.

"They are a bunch of power armor wearing soldiers that can probably clear that prison pretty easily. If they still existed. They worship tech and all kind of weird things. What else do you want to know?" she asked patiently.

"Two things. One, do you know of the man that shot me?" he asked seriously. He wanted to know what the hell was going on, why he was shot, but it seemed obvious that Trudy didn't know why he was shot.

"He was one of those city folk, from New Vegas, wearing a checkered suit, and was a dainty looking man. He was traveling with a bunch of Khans, low life sons of bitches that made my son's life hell when he joined the NCR Army a few years back, and one of them accidently bumped into me. They said they were on their way to Primm, probably to head to New Vegas since they can't head the way they came from. What's the other thing sweetie?"

"Where is Ringo?"

* * *

Soon he was walking up the hill, heading towards the abandoned gas station, after fixing Trudy's radio, which happened to have a few busted wires, nothing he couldn't fix, in order to fix this whole situation. He had no idea what the hell Power Armor was, or who the NCR and Caesar's Legion was, but he had a feeling that he would soon learn.

There was a vending machine nearby, advocating something that involved a sunset, when he knocked on the door of the gas station.

"Hey Ringo, you there?" he asked loudly.

Two bullets were his answer. They went wide, one zoomed over his shoulder, the other, barely, just barely, missing his groin. He thanked whatever Gods there was, before looking through the bullet holes in the door to see a slightly disheveled Asian man wearing what was commonly known as a Courier's bag and a red shirt with spots on it, dark black pants, and a pair of goggles around his neck.

"You take one more step Cobb and I will put two more bullets in your head!" the man screamed. Zephyr sighed before opening the door.

"Really dude? Come on, I didn't wake back up from the dead, just to get shot again. In the head. Again," Zephyr said sarcastically. The man chuckled a bit.

"Sorry about that, I am just jumpy. I mean, you are wearing blue," he said.

"Yeah. I heard about your little Powder Ganger problem," Zephyr mentioned. Ringo chuckled.

"Yes I do. I mean, even I deal with Cobb's crew, there is the problem with the prison. I don't know about you, but I don't feel like messing with about forty plus convicts. Eddie won't let Cobb attack though. Not yet. He will have to wait a bit. Wait for more men and more hardware. Once Eddie supplies Cobb with that, then he will attack," Ringo muttered angrily.

"Goodsprings doesn't stand a chance against the prison. Is Eddie the one in charge of this entire Gang?" Zephyr asked. He made a mental note to scout out the prison later. He had a varmint rifle and a pistol, plus a very dangerous sword, to keep him company.

"Yeah he is. Eddie will probably send Dawson and his crew. Dawson and his crew number about ten, while Cobb has about eight to ten men. We can't take twenty men, me and you. Even with the town behind us," he mumbled.

"I'll think of a plan. If Cobb isn't going to attack now, then we have some time. I have a plan, but it all involves you getting the town behind you. If you have the town behind you, then Cobb will probably delay his attack. I can scout the prison and thin their numbers," Zephyr said with confidence. If the town could rally behind Ringo, then that meant that Cobb would delay his attack. And that meant more time for him to act on his plan.

"Alright stranger. By the way, what is your name?" he asked. Zephyr gave a quiet chuckle.

"You know, you are the first person besides the Doc to ask that."

* * *

Zephyr walked into the General store, a large building that was run by a guy name Chet, it seemed. The air was musty as he saw a man in the same outfit that Ringo wore.

"Hey, how can I help yo-" he stopped when he saw Zephyr's face.

"You here to pick up your hardware?" Chet asked, crossing his arms. Zephyr looked confused.

"My hardware?" he asked, confused.

"Yeah, the suit and the rifle. I had it custom made by the Gun Runners. You already paid for it. Its in the back. Follow me," and Chet motioned for Zephyr to follow him into the back of the store. Zephyr did, still confused as hell as to what the hell was going on.

In the back were several crates, wooden crates about as big as him. A fridge was prompt up in the back and Chet started to open a crate with a crowbar.

"You know, I wasn't expecting you back until you delivered that package to New Vegas. But the package arrived today, and it seems that you want it!" Chet said with excitement. The crate's opening went open and Chet pulled out a suit of armor it seems. But the armor that he was expecting was way different.

This armor was dark black, with the words, U.S FIRST ARMORED CAV, written on it, with a dark green duster covering it. The helmet had a built-in gas mask and the eyelids were dark green, giving off an eerie vibe. Green tubes were attached to the gas mask, while an antenna and a flashlight were strapped to the side. And on the back of the duster was a snarling black dragon, with fire coming out of its maw.

"The duster has reinforced shoulder plates and the pants have inbuilt armored knee guards. Its one badass piece of work. The duster also has some Kevlar woven into the arms, making it easier to fire a rifle or a shotgun, and it also make sure that you got some protection. You made some pretty caps for this. The helmet has advanced optics and a night vision mode and enhanced perception. It is pretty badass if you ask me," Chet chuckled. He then gave it to Zephyr.

"GO put it on. I will vacate the back for just a little bit. Don't touch the items!" Chet called out before leaving the back area. He put the armor on, tugging in the rodeo jeans and the duster on over the armor, various straps and other things, before placing the helmet on.

Suddenly he felt something weird. A pinch went into his wrist, a flare of pain from where the Pipboy was.

"Fuck!" he cursed for the first time. But as he stopped from focusing on the pain, his eyes felt...different. A HP bar was on the right of his vision, several markers below it. An ammo count came from where his gun was, which was his Varmint Rifle.

"Holy crap."

"I know, the armor is so badass!" Chet repeated, before sweeping back into the room.

"And now, the gun that you have been waiting for. I custom ordered it from a gun dealer near Camp McCarran, a rifle that it is called This Machine," Chet said, digging back into the same crate that had housed the armor.

The rifle was at least a foot long. The stock and the actual rifle were a light brown color, patterned for the desert it seemed, and as the rifle was passed into his hands, he was handed several magazines of what appeared to be .308-6 rounds. And on the side of the rifle, the words _WELL THIS MACHINE KILLS COMMIES_, was written, clear as day.

"Six magazines of .308-6. About forty eight rounds. If you want more, then you got to buy them!" Chet cooed.

"I want ten more magazines. I am willing to trade in this vault suit and my varmint rifle," he said, letting the discarded armor and rifle slide into Chet's hands.

"Deal," and soon ten more magazines were clicked to the straps and pockets of the armor. The Courier's bag accompanied him and the man walked out, the afternoon hours soon coming.

* * *

The day had turned into night and the nocturnal predators of the Mojave were out. Scorpions of all sizes, Deathclaws, giant mutated ants, were all seen. But a dust storm was coming out of a valley, raging for hours. It hindered anyone trying to see into the valley, while people in it were safe from prying eyes.

It was how a woman dressed in brown robes managed to escape detection from three Powder Gangers that were patrolling right next to the gate that lead into the valley. She sighed, before wiping her brow clean. She was sweating. Usually, she would have dealt with the threat, but with a heavily fortified prison right next to her, she did not want to draw attention to herself.

She crouched low, shuffling on the road as she continued past the prison. She didn't want to get caught, but she had to go at night; her other routes were blocked by the Super Mutants that inhabited the nearby Black Mountain. She needed to got at night.

The prison had several guard towers, several men armed with rifles and searchlights looking for any threats may appear in the night. As she crouched near a burnt out car from a different era, she breathed in and out, slowly and carefully, when she heard two Powder Gangers talk about something.

"You hear about what happened in Nipton?" a Powder Ganger asked his companion. Both were armed with shotguns, single shot weapons that could tear through skin and bone with a press of a trigger.

"No, what happened?" his companion answered.

"Some Legion fucks tore the place to shreds. No one is alive. Heard there was a lottery to see who would live," the Powder Ganger informed his friend.

"Damn, Boxer was there with his crew. Ten men, dead. Damn, that means only the men here, Dawson's crew, and Cobb's crew is left. And I hear that two of Cobb's guys bought it today. Some dude in a vault suit. Bastard beheaded Rodgers and his best friend," and the two shared a laugh.

"Hey, do you think we can get the bitch behind the rock now?"

And the woman froze when she saw two guns being aimed at her, ready to blow her brains out if she moved.

"Alright princess, this is going to be easy. You see, if we brought you to Eddie, then you'll passed along everyone, before heading back to us. But if we cut ya right now, then we can make sure that you are ours for a night before we bury you in some unmarked grave," the lead Powder Ganger said, his disgusting voice and breath drifting into her nose and mouth. Before she could retort, a bullet entered her left and right arm, tearing into her flesh like a nail being driven into Jesus. A knife cut her hamstrings with blaring speed, making sure that she didn't run. She couldn't scream, her fear taking over.

"Ok sweetheart, this is going to be very painful, very nasty, and I'm gonna enjoy this," the man slobbered, before ripping her clothes off. She was soon in undergarments, and she whimpered. Fear was taking over, panic, death was evident.

"Get read-" but before he could, a bullet, muffled by a silencer, entered him, spraying the desert ground with blood, brain matter, and death. He hit the ground right next to the woman, his eyes already rolled back. His companion looked around, his eyes shifting to try and find the perpetrator that had killed his friend, before he felt two more shots enter his own body, exiting out of his cavity chest and he fell to the ground, dead.

The woman tried to look up, but she couldn't, the pain of two bullets and knife wounds making it to painful for her to move.

Suddenly she was up in the air, being carried away by two arms. She tried to whimper, but she couldn't. Fear was a powerful weapon it seems, and it had grasped her by the throat. She saw the man, or whatever it was, start to carry her towards Hidden Valley, towards her brothers. All she saw were green lenses, dead set on the area in front of her.

"Take me...to Paladin Alexander..." she managed to say and the man looked down at her. She had her power fist still operational, her 10mm pistol abandoned near the scene of the crime. The man opened the gate with ease and entered the area. The dust storm was getting crazier, but the man could see four faint outlines, in a regular patrolling fashion. He saw them as clear as day, all of them armored up in some steel, armed with weapons that seemed to be laser based.

He started to walk towards them, the woman's body still in his arms. He felt her breath, short and labored, due to the shock and the fear that she must have felt, and he saw the four outlines raise their weapons, before dropping them and run towards him, one of them shouting, "STOP!"

He stopped and the four outlines surrounded him, their weapons raised. One of them stepped forward, his weapon on the magnetic strip of his armor in the back, but his arms and hands threatening.

"Why do you have a half-naked woman in your arms and are wandering? You will die soon my enemy. Die of you do not explain yourself!" the filtered voice said angrily.

"This woman said to bring her to a Paladin Alexander. I presume that is you? She was out and hiding behind some rocks when two Powder Gangers shot her with a 9mm pistol and cut her hamstrings. Add the shock and fear that she has felt, I say that she has gone in shock," the man said easily, explaining what had happened.

"She was attacked? My baby sister was attacked by Powder Gangers. No. I will not stand for it. Orders or not, I am not going to let this pass. What is your name stranger?" the Paladin asked.

"My name is Zephyr," Zephyr said. The Paladin then took his sister's body from Zephyr's arms and placed them in the hands of another Paladin.

"Thank you Zephyr. Watts, take Veronica down to see the Senior Scribe. The rest of us, we are going to do some payback," and he then pointed at Zephyr." And you are going to help us."

* * *

That went fast! I am sorry that I am speeding things up, but we need to get out of this whole Powder Ganger business and head to kill that bastard Benny! I will be back tomorrow! Most likely about two more chapters on the whole Powder Ganger Goodsprings things, and then it is time for more action! Tune in next time!


	6. Powder, Smoke, and Fire

W

It was quiet that night in the Mojave. The dust was settling in, the moon was shining, the gentle silverlight lighting the darkest of spots. It was generally just too quiet for Don Angel. The former convict turned ganger was posted on his tower, having the spotlights turn every few minutes, in order to see if anyone was trying to sneak into the prison. The prison was heavily fortified, and with almost the entire strength of the Powder Gangers in the prison, anyone coming up with the intent of trying to take it over would die.

Lighting up a smoke, he let the spotlight bathe a spot right next to the chainlink fence, where desert rocks and plants flourished. A coyote howled, and he thought about shooting it with his varmint rifle, but he decided against it. The Hispanic male inhaled the toxic smoke, letting the age old tobacco and nicotine flood his lungs and his brain.

"That is a good smoke," he told himself. This was his third night on perimeter guard duty. Eddie had his best shots always on the towers, making sure that no one dared to mess with the Powder Gangers. Already he had taken shots at four New California Republic troopers, wounding one, killing another, and left holes on the sides of armor of the other two. He loved his rifle, cherished it, and took care of it. It had been with him since California, for the prisoner's personal items always followed and the Warden decided it was a good idea to place all their goodies in one location.

He then moved the spotlight to cover the main entrance, where Dawes was at all times. The black man slept right next to the door, ever vigilant in his guard duty. Of course, others would come and replace him, but he was a born doorman. He was awake, his .357 in his pistol holster and he was alert.

Raiding had been good. Just today, they had already taken out two caravans heading for the Mojave Outpost, ambushing them and taking them out. Two Legion detachments as well; their arms was being used by the patrols that Eddie sent out, and their armor being displayed on the prison as warning to any legionnaires that dared set this far west. Last week Joe Cobb's crew had hit up a Crimson Caravan...caravan, and had slaughtered the guards, but a man by the name of Ringo had fled to Goodsprings. Cobb had been ordered to sort them out.

The Powder Gangers were a major power. Already, they had a crew in Goodsprings, several patrols and camps, and a splinter group raising hell in Primm with the New California Republic. The prison was not supplying the bastards at the small town of Primm, and Richard Reeves could go to hell for all Don thought.

He then started to fiddle with his bolt on his rifle. He hadn't been on a raid in four days; the last time he went they had ambushed an NCR patrol and taken their weapons and had buried their bodies in the radioactive pools of water near one of their camps. They had tried to learn if the New California Republic had any plans to take back the prison; after all they numbered in the dozens, and the NCR numbered in the thousands.

But he reminded himself that a bunch of dirty gangers were just a nuisance compared to the numerous legionnaires. They were going to deal with the freaking Legion, and if they won, they would be coming back to take care of business. But that wasn't for a while. So for now, Don figured he would kick back, relax, and let his raid on.

Finally, around two in the morning, another Powder Ganger came up, armed with a varmint rifle as well, and relieved him. Nodding his thanks, he went down the stairs, and headed straight into the prison blocks, in order to get some needed rest. As soon as he tumbled asleep, a massive explosion echoed through the camp.

* * *

Zephyr looked at the new changing of the guard, and he saw that Paladin Alexander was pacing back and forth his tri-beam rifle in hand, waiting for the signal. Zephyr noted that anger had clouded his judgement, otherwise he would have never let the stranger clad in ancient armor find out that he was a Brotherhood Paladin. The other two Paladins were kneeling, one of them looking through the scope of his gauss rifle, sweeping the rifle from guard to guard, wanting to pull the trigger. The other one looked at Zephyr, his massive laser machine gun trained on the guard right next to the door leading to the prison.

"How many more minutes?" the Paladin asked impatiently. It had been a solid two hours since the Courier had saved Veronica's life, and the mismatched group had come up with a plan. Two Paladins, Paladin Alexander and his Gatling Laser wielding comrade would storm the prison, while Zephyr would skirt around the back and hit the admin building. Paladin Rico would stay on the hill and snipe, taking out all the guards and the searchlights.

"Wait...wait...now!" and then the C4 timed charges that Zephyr had, another thing he had purchased from Chet, exploded. A massive hole in the fence was now there, gaping for all the world to see. Two Powder Gangers were thrown a clear ten feet, landing on their backs, charred.

The camp exploded into a fury of activity, trying to find out the culprit. But before that happened, the Paladin sniper placed a 2mm round right between the eyes of a Powder Ganger, catapulting him back a few feet, and throwing him clear off the guardhouse. Reloading with precision, the sniper then placed a round in the next Powder Ganger, while Alexander and his comrade went charging down the hill, a tri-beam laser bisecting another Powder Ganger in half. The night attack threw off the Powder Gangers, having not expecting an assault, and Zephyr made them pay when he put a .308-6 round straight between the eyes of another Powder Ganger, his head exploding.

Running now, the Courier then leaped straight through the hole in the fence, watching as the Powder Gangers traded fire with the Brotherhood. Four more Powder Gangers went down, two of them into ash, and Zephyr didn't know how this carnage was possible. Skirting around the edges of the battle, he placed three rounds into a dynamite carrying Powder Ganger, killing him, and the dynamite exploded, hot fragments penetrating another Powder Gangers light body armor. He howled before he was killed by a roving bullet.

Placing C4 on the wall that was the admin building, he backed up a bit, before looking at his detonator. He winced, as a few bullets impacted on his armor, knocking the wind out of him. He turned to see a surprised Powder Ganger with a 9mm in his hands, before he was blown away by Zephyr's rifle. Zephyr then looked at the building, and praying to God, pressed the trigger to the detonator, and watched as the wall tumbled away in a flash of smoke and fire.

"Damn…" the man muttered softly, before squeezing off three more rounds into the dust, his night vision telling him that a Powder Ganger was emerging from the building. The former prisoner went down in the dirt, three gaping holes in his chest, before five more Powder Gangers emerged from the smoke, all of which were clad in Kevlar and sunglasses. Zephyr reloaded quickly, placing another mag of ammo straight into his rifle.

But as that happened, the five Powder Gangers raised their weapons and fired.

9mm full metal jacket rounds impacted all around Zephyr, more than one hitting him. He winced before diving, as the submachine guns continued their unrelenting storm. The storm of lead continued to impact near him, kicking up dirt and pebbles. He dived once more, this time right behind a picnic table, and winced as three more rounds hit his armor. He clenched his rifle, before popping straight out of cover.

And then time slowed.

The first Powder Ganger was in the midst of reloading when Zephyr squeezed the trigger twice, the armor piercing rounds erupting from the barrel, smoke dancing in the moonlight morning, before spiraling towards their target. The Powder Ganger was in slow motion, before the two rounds entered him, one through the chest, and the other right through the shoulder. He went down tumbling, mortally wounded.

The next one was a bit quicker, squeezing off a dozen rounds, but none of them hit Zephyr. That didn't matter, for Zephyr let loose with a single round, and the Powder Ganger died.

And just like that, the rest of them were dead, all of them with a single mag. Zephyr then reloaded quickly, before heading towards the hole in the wall. The other Powder Gangers were quickly being killed by the Brotherhood, and the falling body of one of them showed him that the Brotherhood was not to be messed with.

* * *

Eddie was scared. Despite his usual demeanor, the sudden and destructive attack knocked him off balance. At least half of his men were dead, all of the guards in the towers were dead, and five of his seven bodyguards were dead as well. He clutched his plasma pistol, one that he had taken after he had found and killed a Brotherhood scout, before motioning for his two remaining guards to push the couch against the door, he and the other two taking positions right behind it. Scrambler was waiting for the intruder, in the room that lead to his office, and he wondered if he had sent his friend to his death.

* * *

Zephyr ran up the stairs, ignoring the three Powder Gangers that were cowering. It was too quiet, and he wondered what the hell was going on. He was clutching his rifle, as he slowly came up the stairs, sweeping every corner, before he would check out the rooms. As he was satisfied that the stairs was clear, he went up into the main room upstairs, a desolate place filled with nothing but ruined furniture and nothing else. As he did so, suddenly, he felt white hot pain course through his body when someone slammed his fist straight into his chest, winding him.

"Damn it…" Zephyr muttered, before looking up. It was a massive man, at least six feet four inches, and had a bloodshot eye. His right eye was covered by an eyepatch, while hair was in a mohawk. He was wielding a pair of brass knuckles, while a massive bumper sword was on his back.

"Well, well, look what the cat dragged in," the man said, before kicking Zephyr on the side. He cursed as his breath was knocked straight out of his lungs. The man was sinister, no doubt, and his eye proved it. It was just emitting mal intent, and he wondered what the hell this guy's name was.

"The name is Scrambler," the man said, as if reading his mind," and they do so because I mess people up so bad they don't which part goes when I'm done."

And that made Zephyr's skin crawled.

"I'm going to enjoy killing you. Gotta do it with my blade, otherwise the meat isn't as tasty…" Scrambler said before howling with laughter.

"Any last words?" Scrambler asked, before drawing his blade. Zephyr rolled his eyes at the cliche last words thing, before nodding no. Scrambler laughed, and he plunged his blade down.

And that was something he should have never done.

Zephyr leaped out, his armored glove scraping along the edge of the blade. His other hand went straight to his own blade.

And Dragon's Teeth was going to show why Powder Gangers weren't going to last very long in the Mojave. Withdrawing the sharp blade, he parried a blow from Scrambler, before ducking a wild swing to his head. Something just flowed into Zephyr. He had been in this position before.

_"Parry!_"

And so Zephyr did.

_"Strike!"_

And so Zephyr did. His blade was a blur when his katana slammed straight into the bumper sword, knocking Scrambler off balance.

_"Block!"_

And Zephyr did, knocking the massive man's blade to the side, trapping it on the ground.

_"Finish."_

And Zephyr did. His blade was a blur when he placed massive strength into his blade, sword and mid becoming one.

_"Done."_

Zephyr watched as Scrambler's body fell to the ground, his head missing. His blade was sticky with red, and he clutched it, before cleaning it off with a clean cloth that he had. Placing the sword back in his scabbard, he grabbed his last C4, placed right next to the door, walked five paces away, and detonated it.

* * *

Alexander was finishing up, executing Powder Ganger after Powder Ganger. All of them were dead, except for the ones the man named Zephyr was fighting in the main building. He wondered if he had to go and get him, but a massive explosion told him that he didn't. Five minutes later, the man walked out, with a slight limp, but he was fine.

"Any serious opposition?" Alexander asked him and the man shook his head no. As Alexander nodded, the man handed him something. It was a plasma pistol, one that looked like it belonged to a certain knight that he had once knew.

Knight Williams. A good man, killed in action just right after the Powder Gangers staged their escape. A good scout. No one knew where his body was, but his plasma pistol was one that he took care of, one that he had taken pride in.

"Thank you…"the Paladin muttered, before putting it away. The other two of his Brothers soon appeared right next to him.

"Paladin Alexander...what are we going to do with the stranger? He knows where our base is, he knows that the Brotherhood exists, he knows your name and he knows the name of your sister. Unless we take him with us, he will need to die," the Gatling Laser wielding one said to him. Alexander knew this, but the man had saved his sister and had help take revenge on the monsters that dared to do this. But the lockdown meant that no one was to know where their base was. He had to either kill the man or lock him up forever. But was that fair? No it wasn't. The code demanded it.

But he was sick of the Code. He was sick of waiting. He was sick of just being out here, not doing anything. They had managed to cleanse an entire raider camp! An entire prison. He was shocked of the amount of people he had killed, but he had been at Helios One. He would be banished from the Brotherhood for this, and the others as well. But he knew what he had to do. He had to save his Brothers from banishment.

"Tell the Elder that I died in a maddening assault. That you dragged my body and buried me next to my parents...that you buried me with my armor, just like a Paladin of old. Tell them...I did my duty to humanity. Tell the Head Paladin I'm sorry. Tell Veronica I'm sorry," the Paladin said and the other ones looked at him with awe.

"Alex, you don't mean to tell us…" Paladin Rico said before Alexander cut him off.

"Yeah. I'm leaving the Brotherhood," and the two other Paladins stood up straight. They were his friends, his brother in arms. But he had to face the consequences. He had to face the music for his decision, his rash decision. Turning to Zephyr, he asked only a simple question.

"Zephyr, are you looking for someone to help you on any of your journeys?"

* * *

Juno watched the entire exchange, looking through her high powered field binoculars. She now knew that the Brotherhood was indeed real, and that one day, well, she would most likely have to destroy them. Crassus was next to her, the old ghoul smiling. She watched as the four parted ways, one of the Paladins walking away from the other ones and joining Zephyr.

"Looks like the lad has a knack for making some powerful friends," the old ghoul said. The future Empress scoffed. She had noticed his fighting prowess, taking down at least a dozen Powder Gangers, and watched as he executed a textbook operation. Whoever he was, whatever his past, it had ex-military written all over it.

She was impressed by the man and thought that she had rescued a worthy warrior. She realized that she needed someone like that working for her. Someone that knew the ins and outs of the wasteland. She needed someone that was not a legionnaire to guide her in her journey to take over the Mojave for her father. She knew, that despite her skills, she was not all that well at adapting, while Crassus and her guards were just too Legion to even go out in the open.

She made up her mind then.

She was going to Goodsprings and she was going to speak to the man that she saved. The stranger she saved. the man whom name she did not know. She packed up her equipment, before planting the standard of the Legion on the hill. She needed to make a quick stop in Nipton to see an old friend.

* * *

In the waking dawn, right near the ski resort now known as Jacobstown, a Vertibird with the marking of a dragon landed with grace, near an old abandoned refueling station for Vertibirds. Six men piled out, each armed with assault rifles or shotguns. Clad in black combat armor, they were here for one purpose and one purpose only.

To find the Son of the Dragon and return him to his home.

They filed into two columns, each of them wary of their surroundings. The Vertibird then lifted into the sky, before climbing to two thousand feet, and heading East, towards an old abandoned military facility, not knowing that the Bear had knowledge of them. The communications officer then fired off a message to NCR High Command at Hoover Dam, and before they knew it, three Rangers were making their way towards the land known as Jacobstown, to see if any of them knew anything.

* * *

And unknown to all of them, a certain overlord watched with curiosity. The Courier that had been hired to deliver his chip had been shot and then recovered remarkably. He had scouts keeping track of the Courier, while he had scouts keeping track of the Vertibird reaching out east, now over New Vegas. He ran calculations and tried to find data on the Courier and his past, but was unable to do so. No databases knew of him, and the only thing the NCR had on him was that he had delivered a package to Hopeville near the Divide.

That wouldn't matter anyway. He knew that the man like the Courier would try to find the man that shot him. Benny was somewhere between Primm and Boulder City, and he had a team of mercenaries tracking him down. He would have his chip and with that...an army that would protect Vegas. An army that would stand out as a beacon of hope, as a beacon that humanity wasn't going to perish again. Five seconds later, he had three scouts heading near Nellis Air Force Base, tracking the Vertibird, while he sent a message to Victor.

KEEP EYES ON COURIER. FOLLOW HIM. WHEN REACHES BOULDER CITY OR NEAR THERE, HEAD TO VEGAS.

* * *

And in a certain nuclear missile silo, a man, darkened by the horrors he had witnessed, was sitting silently, waiting for the signal. The man of the Old World was going to have his talk with Zephyr, son of Zachary, the Son of the Dragon, and the One Who Walks the Lonesome Road.

_Come back soon Zephyr. For you must pay for your sins._

**So for such the long wait. I was stuck and I needed some guidance. Thanks to CyberJordan for inspiring indirectly with his story. Please read, review. No flames, but constructive criticism always welcomed!**

**-DeathBladeVI**


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